nightlife | open.

[ Vroom vroom. No point waiting around; in this city, loitering - even in an idled car - is an open invite for someone to peer inside and start something. Never-ending intrigue in what was once America's greatest city, and now the planet's strangest dead-end.

At least they've still got a Dairy Queen. Well. Barry does alright. Bruce does correct him, now and again, but it isn't sharp. He's learned lessons about being an overbearing instructor years ago.

A thoughtful sound, at the end of the younger man's torrent of words. He's becoming more used to it as time goes on. ]

Is that what it is, [ he says eventually. There's something like reflection in his voice. Turning over Barry's idea, inspecting it. ] Normalcy.

[ Perhaps a too-revealing response. Bruce doesn't know what normal feels like, outside of endless nights of violence interspersed with isolating himself with his adopted father, and their mutual alcoholism. Hm.

Is this friendship??? Are they all friends? Is Bruce actually doing something right. What. That doesn't sound correct. ]

[ Yes, Bruce. That's exactly what this is. Guys being dudes. Looks like you have a team now so you're just gonna have to Deal With It.

But Barry only chuckles a bit at the normalcy comment tossed like this and just nods to agree, keeping those eyes of his on the road ahead of them since, you know, kind of important and not like he has super vision like Clark does (right??) or whatever.

There's a sort of silence that hangs between them as they go, Barry mostly wanting to make sure he's going the right way and also not screw up with this whole Driving Stick thing he totally told Bruce he could handle. But there's also something nagging at him and it shows in the way he chews on his bottom lip. His mind forever jumping from one thing to the next, he glances over at Bruce and clears his throat then, shifting a bit in his seat. ]

So, uh... would you say it's... probably not a good idea to... you know. [ A glance over to Bruce, just half a second really. ] Uh... hook up with someone you know. [ Wait. ] I mean- work with. Like... on a team? A team of... superheros?

[ Wow he could have delivered that a whole lot better but. There it is. ]

[ It's nice. Which in itself is strange, but Bruce tries not to overanalyze it, and simply accept the unusual state of affairs. This period of recovery has allowed him to inhabit those feelings in a way he hasn't since he was much younger. When he was less in the deep end of his tangle of mental health landmines and lost loved ones.

Nice of Clark to resurrect him too, when he came out of the weird alien life goop they kindly made Arthur stand in. (What was that conversation like. You're the water guy, you go stand in the weird alien life goop with the corpse.)

Huh, we're back on this subject, as the back roads zip by. Bruce reaches between them, and there's a spare second for Barry to speed his hand away - if not, Bruce's larger one closes over his on the gear, shifting it properly for the incline up to the Palisades. ]

Is this about Diana again? [ A little wry. ] You could just ask her. But I doubt she'll love being hounded as the only woman currently on the team.

[ Have some manners. Fumble awkwardly like a fuckin idiot over a computer mouse. It'll go fine! Bruce considers them together, briefly; his mind doesn't reject it. Diana deserves to laugh and be lighter. They all do. He also considers, less briefly, a universe where everyone on this haphazard team has the questionable slutty ethics he does. What might that look like.

(Hot, it'd look hot. Which is why he stops thinking about it.) ]

Edited (someday i'll proofread my tags) 2021-06-27 08:35 (UTC)

[ So lost in his thoughts and just hearing Victor telling him to not do anything stupid, he only notices Bruce's hand moving there when it's suddenly atop his own and Barry's gaze drops down almost instantly. Words are... gone. Like really. What are even words? He has no idea because all he can do is just sit there in silence and let the other man help with the shifting of the gear, completely not dealing with a hummingbird for a heartbeat in the dead of night here on the road. God, why does he feel Victor's judging gaze on him from behind when the other isn't even here? Spoiler alert: this might have been why he'd wound up in Bruce's car in the first place earlier on. He likes Victor. He's a great pal - a bro - to hang around and shoot the shit with, especially with theories and all, but. He sometimes just Tells It Like It Is and Barry sometimes doesn't always like hearing that, so.

Thankfully, Bruce cuts through the various scenarios and conversations zipping around in his head with that question about Diana and he flicks his gaze up with a bewildered sort of look on his face. ]

Oh my god- what? [ Shaking his head, he stares a little too long at Bruce before he looks back ahead and just... laughs. Awkwardly. Super awkwardly. ] I... no. Not no as in she's not like super hot and strong and could kick my ass without even trying. But no as in I'm n-not talking about her and I'm p-pretty sure she looks at me as too young for her anyways. Like... really super young.

[ Internally, he cringes as he catches himself starting to stutter what with his getting nervous and he suddenly feels like this is him and Bruce meeting all over again with his stumbling over his own words while attempting to make it seem like He's Totally Got This. Hint: he doesn't. ]

I was just wondering what your thoughts were... on that k-kinda stuff. You're like... the boss, right?

[ He put together the team after all. ]

How many five thousand-year-old suitors do you think might be out there? [ Bruce is using his perfectly reasonable voice, mild and almost soft-spoken for how deep and rough he always sounds. Perhaps detectable for what it is, which is teasing. ] She deserves a nice date as much as anyone else.

[ Okok. Bruce'll take pity on him, glancing over at Barry with a smile that's mostly in his eyes - difficult to do so much emoting in one night, for a guy who usually schedules his yearly facial expression. ]

We're all adults, Barry. I'm not going to report you to HR for anything.

[ Interesting note, if he doesn't mean Diana, but to find anyone's skittish bisexuality worth remarking on he'd have to be a bigger hypocrite than he already is. A sigh, and he looks back out at the road, despite staying almost preternaturally aware of the younger man's handling of the vehicle. ]

All my exes are felons, anyway, I'm not allowed to advise on the subject.

[ They are all adults, that's right, and it's why Barry is wondering why he's being such a geek about this. Probably because he's actually talking to Bruce and not about Bruce like he might have been earlier with Victor. You know, while they'd been sitting around and fiddling with this and that sort of tech.

The part about his exes, however, gets Barry to glance over a little curiously as they go up that incline and he gives a thoughtful tilt of his head. He... really has no idea about anything concerning Bruce's love life or lack thereof and that's... totally normal. It's not like they've known each other for years or wear matching best friends forever necklaces or something. Plus, the guy has a habit of keeping quiet and to himself a lot of the time, something Barry can understand since he sure has Those Days, but.

Licking over his lips, he shrugs a bit while trying to come off as casual as he possibly can when in this expensive car with Bruce Wayne there right beside, driving on up to his place because he wants to show him something after they'd had a late night diner outing together because a certain speedster had texted him that he was going to crash in his car.

Yeah, he's still surprised they got this far, truth be told. ]

Well... maybe you should try someone who bats for the same team then. [ A beat, he tries to inconspicuously look to Bruce out of the corner of his eye. ] I mean... would you?

[ And oh, look at that. They've arrived at Bruce's place. Perfect timing. ]

[ There have been countless dates, photo-ops, cover stories; the real ones are Selina, Talia (and if he is being honest with himsel, Harvey), people on a sliding scale of villainy from wealth re-distribution to out-and-out terrorism. Oh, you like her? That bodes well is an old, sarcastic standby from Alfred.

Parking is less of an ordeal than accelerating up an incline from a stop, but Bruce still guides Barry into leaving the car alongside the path to the house. Sitting there silent and dark in the early morning, a glass depression cube placed precariously on the water's edge. Five years ago, during a hurricane, it flooded up to his ankles.

He considers Barry's question. Unfolds the stuttering origami of it. ]

Yes, [ he says as he turns around, getting the takeout from the floor of the back seat. That's all. Yes.

It is not a dismissive 'Sure', and not a declaration with intent. Yes, he would. It is factual and honest. Doors open, and Bruce pulls the hat off his head at last, and runs one hand through his greying hair. ]

I don't have to show you. [ Whatever-it-is. He's looking at Barry, now. ] If you'd rather not turn this into a work night.

[ The topic had been deadly serious, when he'd mentioned he had something back at the house. It will be a downer. From this, whatever it may be. ]

[ Ok, so. Yes. Bruce says yes to that and Barry just sort of hums to himself and focuses Really Hard on the road in front of him. Totally not thinking about anything or letting his thoughts to drift off onto the various forks in the road that is his mind. Nope. Not gonna let that happen so that's why he's just focusing on the road ahead.

Except he parked the car already, so. Yeah.

When Bruce gets out, Barry follows after a momentary struggle with his seatbelt and checks his phone which he pockets as he steps out. Door left open, he blinks when Bruce throws that suggestion at him because... isn't this why they came here in the first place? Now he's wondering if he's overthinking or overstepping some invisible boundary here and his fingers tap a little nervously against the roof of the car as he stands there. Super casual. ]

Oh. Uh.

[ What other way is this night supposed to turn into? Things he wants to say but doesn't. Instead, he tilts his head one way and then the other, letting his gaze drift around them out here in the literal middle of nowhere more or less before he swings his gaze back on over to Bruce and the way he looks at him is careful at best. ]

Did you... want me to leave?

[ He's a little... unsure if that's what Bruce is hinting at here. He doesn't think he's saying that but, he also doesn't want to assume anything either. Maybe he's just tired and has had enough of the speedster. After all, he sort of does have A Lot of stamina... in more ways than one. ]

[ Barry could want to go home. Barry could want to have a conversation with Bruce about his repressed feelings for Superman and want advice on how to seduce him away from Lois. Barry could, and Bruce is beginning to realize this is the more likely scenario, make a pass at him. All of these things are probably more fun than work.

For Barry. He assumes. Bruce does not know what fun is. So. ]

Not especially, [ he says, looking at him. Click, the car doors close, wings tucking in. Absurd. But it's the fastest street-legal thing he's got lying around. ] This has been nice.

[ Well. Alright, then. Bruce waits another moment and then, ] Come on.

[ If Barry is going to make a pass at him, he should probably see this first. Bruce turns and heads to the front door, which is as perfectly transparent as all the other walls. It's quiet and dark, and Bruce knows from the way the locks are set that Alfred is downstairs, asleep. There's a different pattern for when he's elsewhere (his place in the city, the Airstream he set up in the woods, and lately, the few liveably refurbished rooms in the manor as it begins its transformation). Bruce turns on a low light, and moves to the shotgun kitchen on the north side of the house, popping the takeout into the fridge. ]

No new aliens tonight, I guess, [ is a joke. Because, u kno. That time he sent everyone a memo about the "martian" that showed up one morning. (Calvin has probably since made further group visits, who knows.) He leads Barry to the back of the house, and the hidden bunker access. This is not the entrance that they took to the cave, the time he brought them all. This is different. The spartan stairwell, the overlook to the subterranean cave, the effigy of his dead son. ]

[ Not especially. Not especially is good. It's... very good, yeah and it takes Barry a second before he realizes he's being invited on in and he does, indeed, follow along.

He keeps his hands shoved in his pocket as he wanders on after Bruce, idly tossing his glance here and there as they make their way in because yeah, this would probably be the first time he's ever come in through this way since, you know, not like he and Bruce "hang out" every other day or something. So he takes the few seconds that he does to really get a look at the place as he just follows along. It's... big. Big and fancy and nothing Barry himself is really used to. It almost seems a little too open for a guy that keeps himself closed up more often than not. A walking oxymoron that Bruce Wayne. At least in terms of real estate. ]

Oh. Right. That's... a thing now, huh?

[ Their "alien friend" he means. Which, ok, there's Superman, yeah. But this is just a little more different? Maybe? Things that are a little tbd at the moment really. ]

Who would have thought aliens here would start to become the norm, right?

[ He falls a little quiet as they make their way through the hidden bunker access there and he bows his head a little in respect when he catches sight of the effigy there to the side. How's a guy supposed to make a pass when it's all doom and gloom down here? Sheesh. ]

You don't like... sleep down here as well, do you? Please tell me you have like some ridiculously fancy room that I can't even fathom in my imagination because it's not anything that I'll ever have in my lifetime since yeah.

We passed it already, [ he says, voice not really echoing the way one might think it would, on the steel catwalk bridging them to the main cave. ] It was on the other side of the kitchen.

[ The only enclosed room upstairs is a small bathroom cubicle that Bruce can barely fit into - 1960s-inspired minimalism did not have 6'4" brick house ninjas in mind, but at least the hilarious disparity allowed a perfect excuse to hire contractors to build out the innocent, residential lower levels. (Which they bypass, past a door that looks like a wall. No need to wake up Alfred.)

Beepboop. Bruce touches a panel to get a few systems running. It's quiet down here except for the ambient hum of water, and now, the quiet buzz of electronics. Doom and gloom, but Bruce did warn him. If you'd rather not.

But here they are. ]

I can control my heartbeat.

[ —is kind of nuts to announce, but it's going somewhere. Bruce flips on a computer screen, pulls up what appears to be an internal CCTV system. ]

What you said, about us losing to Steppenwolf. I noticed something about my pulse that wasn't right for a few moments. It was familiar, like the sensation itself triggered deja-vu, but I couldn't place it. On the other hand, I had plenty of reason to chalk it up to unacknowledged physiological panic. It was a tense evening.

Edited (wording tweak ) 2021-07-01 02:05 (UTC)

[ Ok so that? That is not something he thought he thought he'd be told when they came down here as they have and it absolutely shows in the way the speedster blinks a couple times while trailing along behind the other man. ]

That- wow- ok.

[ Pretty much sums it up. ]

Definitely not something I ever would have guessed about you.

[ To say the least. But Bruce continues on and Barry's steps come to slow a bit as he continues to follow, gaze drifting around here and there to the setup that the other man has for himself down here since, well, he still finds it pretty damn impressive.

He does wonder what Bruce is gently starting to get at and, when he explains further, Barry just regards him for a long moment before humming to himself as he comes up beside him. ]

So... what you're saying is you believe you felt the whole rewinding time thing?

[ Bruce just goes 'mm', because, well. It's more complicated than that - meditation and vitals, things he spent brutal years learning. Ninja shit, in shorthand. But there's no less strange way to explain it and not spend an hour delving into it.

Taptap. Bringing up the database for internal security, entering a password. ]

Yes. I just wasn't sure until you said that, and it finally connected when I'd felt it before. I've just...

[ He trails off, hand hovering over the keyboard, looking at the file on screen. As if hesitating over hitting play. He isn't worried about showing Barry, but this is a potentially perilous thing to sift through, for himself. ]

I spent a lot of time convinced it was a dream, and that my mind had super-imposed what I'd learned later onto it. This is the day that I obtained footage of you at the liquor store, but before I had gotten into the file. [ Bruce points at the still image on the screen. It's him, sitting at the desk beside them, head down on the table. Asleep, apparently. He indicates the screen-within-a-screen, and while everything is washed out and not quite high-def, it's still visible as a decryption in progress.

He moves his hand, and hits play.

It's not impressive. The Bruce in the CCTV footage sits there, not noticeably breathing (can he control that, too?). It goes on, and on, and then Bruce wakes up, startled, hand on his chest.

Rewind. Plays it all again, slower. There's a point before he jumps awake, and for the barest fraction of a moment, something sparks bright around the edges of a single frame, and there's distortion towards the far left platform of the cave. A piece of paper sitting on the desk briefly teleports to the floor. While this plays again, Bruce (the real, non-CCTV one) is opening a drawer on the underside of the worktable, retrieving something. ]

[ When Bruce brings up the CCTV footage, he's not exactly sure just what he's looking for her nor why Bruce is showing this to him in the first place. He stares to the screen, focused on it in a way he hasn't really been throughout their night together thus far. When the Bruce in the footage wakes suddenly, Barry's brow lifts because... ok? As far as he can tell, it just looks like someone waking startled from a knightmare or something.

But then Bruce rewinds it, plays it again, and Barry flicks his gaze over to the man with a look of pure confusion before he looks back to the screen, noting how much more slower it seems to be going this time. There's something Bruce wants him to see. Something in this footage he's purposefully slowing down.

It's when the spark happens around the edge of a frame and the random distortion that seemingly comes out of nowhere that Barry squints a bit and even finds himself leaning in a little closer to try and make out what he's seeing. ]

Whaaaat is that?

[ Fast as he might be, he's really only got whatever footage he has in front of him right here to go off of and, without a little bit more context here, there's not much he can make in terms of guesses. ]

You.

[ When he had first looked up the footage - after days of berating himself for even doing it - he didn't know what to expect. Either nothing, or a solid minute of blinding white light. This is neither. And while it's closest to nothing, he has studied and studied those little blips, and been unable to account for them. It could be an otherwise unremarkable quality loss on digital system, but the timing is suspicious.

Just—

He was unwell at the time. Mentally. Things have been weird.

It turns out that what Bruce has removed from the drawer is a notebook, and he opens it to a page with some sketches on it. He is not A Gifted Artist, but he has an adept hand for drawing detailed blueprints schematics, which translates over into rendering images from memory with enough accuracy to really annoy the hell out of any actual artist.

A man reaching out. Familiar-yet-not armor. The face is scruffy, older, but the cheekbones are still very much Barry Allen. Most of the detail is on the protruding tube of light (there's the blueprint architect in him), and the exact positioning in the cave.

The pages after it, if Barry chooses to flip through, get much weirder. oh no ]

[ That... is not, under any circumstances, the sort of answer he expected to get because... what? This footage here was... before he and Bruce knew each other. It was well before he came home to find a strange man just sitting there in the dark in his second favorite chair like a creeper. He'd never even known who Bruce Wayne the man was and here he's now saying that, hey, they've technically maybe kinda had a run-in with each other a few years back before either of them even knew about the other here?

It's... he just needs a moment to wrap his head around that because, with his having been able to rewind time for the few seconds that he had, it's not at all out of the realm of possibility now and Barry just... doesn't know what to make of that. Is Bruce insinuating that they briefly met before because he traveled back in time at some point to speak to him? That's... what it feels like, especially with the whole I've Felt It Before when he mentioned feeling time rewind.

And the flipping through the pages of that notebook he's given definitely doesn't make it any easier on him thinking it might be something else.

First off? Bruce's lack of artistic visionary touches aside, that suit looks hella awesome. Just saying. But it's the flipping through the pages after that really get the brief smile on the speedster's face to slowly vanish due to how... concerning some of these sketches are? Like... they're very concerning. So much in fact that he can't help but glance up to Bruce in almost disbelief before he looks back down to them.

This is... a whole lot of yikes and he has absolutely no idea what to say for a long moment.

Swallowing finally, he looks up to the man, fingers holding the notebook there in front of him. ]

Assuming that I'm on the same page as you here and you're telling me that we met before via time travel of some sort... what exactly did I say to you to prompt... these?

[ This could be awfully romantic. I saw you in a dream before we met. I've drawn your face. You're here now, talking to me like this.

Except the drawings on following pages are (k)nightmarish. Barry appears in some, but most of his sketches are dedicated to ruined landscapes, awful-looking spacecraft, and notes about uppercase Greek letter 'omega'. One deviation, a portrait of a woman with a horned circlet on her head, has notes written about a trident. One page as been neatly clipped out close to the binding. ]

You told me that Lois Lane was 'the key'. But then you seemed to realize I didn't recognize you or understand the context of what you meant, and you said you were 'too soon'. Told me I was right about 'him', and then begged me to 'find us'.

[ You know just normal things. ]

I have a history of bad dreams. I've tried to forget, and I've tried to understand. Neither path has led anywhere constructive. But when I saw your armor in that warehouse, and you agreed to come with me after everyone else had said no, it was on my mind again.

[ Bruce takes the journal back from him, lets it fall closed, and sets it aside. A record of horrors that are all potentially hallucinations. :);; ]

[ Ordinarily, he might have thought this was super cool to learn because, yeah, he's discussed this sort of possibility and alternate timelines with Victor a few times already but this... this right here is different because of how Not Fun it all seems. Especially if some future (or alternate?) version of himself managed to run back in time so far that he risked whatever consequences would come from doing so to warn and plead to Bruce years before they even knew each other.

God, he just wants to talk to this Other Him.

Barry's mind races as he tries to piece it all together and it's a little obvious he's doing as much with the way his brow seems permanently furrowed at the moment and he starts pacing around, seemingly lost in thought. Invisible math equations floating all over his face. ]

I can't even... fathom moving backwards in time literal years. I can do seconds at best, but years?

[ Just how fast is this other him? There has to be something else there. Something Bruce doesn't have the answer to.

Slightly frustrated, Barry rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms and groans as he tries to make sense of it all because it's the how and the why that are messing with his head at the moment. ]

Oh God, what does this all mean? [ Pacing still, he swings his arms down. ] S-should I not have run back? But if I didn't, you wouldn't be here right now. Standing there. Showing me these... these disturbing things and telling me that we've already kinda met before- which, for the record, makes all of this just a little more strange because now I question the how and why we know each other in whatever future that is but if I didn't run back, then I wouldn't know that because you wouldn't have told me and I wouldn't be here with you right now because you never would have got that text I sent because Victor was all this is a bad idea Barry and I was like uh, yeah I know but thanks for your support, Vic and just none of it would have happened and I wouldn't be telling you this while trying to make sense of ten things at once.

[ Did you get all that, Bruce? ]

[ The possibility of time travel, or the possibility of alternate timelines, or both. That he was visited by a future Barry Allen is certain - but what future? Theirs, or a neighboring one, and Barry just missed when he bolted through time? And is Bruce seeing into another world in his dreams, or—?

He either shouldn't have shown this to Barry, or he should have shown him earlier. Bruce isn't sure. But they can't actually time travel out of it. ]

I would have tracked you down anyway, [ is what he says after a while, and there's a quiet smile hidden in his voice. A break in the loop. Find us, Bruce! You have to find us! Yeah, well. He was on that already. Detective, and all.

Which means nothing is set in stone. Terminator movies aren't real. ]

What does Vic think is a bad idea?

[ It's only "bad" to have told him in the sense that now he won't be able to stop thinking about it. At least in terms of how this future maybe alternate version of him?? Was able to break through time itself and manipulate it in such a way that he could travel through it. That's just... insane to think.

But then he also wonders why he hasn't returned if he supposedly came "too soon" (like he ever does what) or why it was Bruce in particular he sought out. Not that he's... upset that he never got a visit from... future him, but. Weird things happen enough as it is when he pushes that limit of his. What if something happened? What if the reason he hasn't returned is because he did change what he needed to change? Since... that sounds like the point of this, right? Tell Bruce something to alter something that, from the looks of those sketches, is not anything he wants to be made a reality.

Make your own future. Make your own past.

He's so caught up in all the why's and how's circling around in his head that he, actually and honestly, answers Bruce's inquiry if even a little flippantly amidst his pacing. ]

That I have a crush on you. [ WAIT- ] uhhhhhh c-crushing admiration for all that you... do...

[ That's... still a save. Sort of? ]

Edited 2021-07-01 15:04 (UTC)

[ Questions that have rolled around in Bruce's head for a long time. When was Barry supposed to return to? Has he gotten there yet? Will he wake up tomorrow morning and see that visitor from the future, better prepared to give him a message - about 'him'?

You were always right about him. Superman? Luthor? Darkseid?

At the time he thought his subconscious was pointing towards the unstoppable alien. Now, his faith in Clark is unshakable. But even that can be split. Can Clark be manipulated? Is that thing Steppenwolf's master was searching for - that now, he and Diana are searching for - related?

Fear him.

A nice thing to load onto Barry. But if he's looking into time travel and alternate realities, it would be insane not to mention it. Maybe they can solve this with the right application of insight and, apparently, speed. (How did Barry run that fast? Obviously just by moving his feet more and not something really weird like a magic treadmill)

So— ]

Alright.

[ That's. Hm. Not time travel. ]

I was under the impression Victor found me at least tolerable. There goes his holiday card.

[ Even in the midst of... All Of This, Bruce still finds it within him to crack a dry joke. Never change, B-Man. Never change.

Barry, on the other hand, is awkwardly fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he stands there because oh boy, he sure just went and said that, didn't he? But, silver lining? Bruce didn't come back with a what or some stare of disapproval or even, dare he think it, disgust. Instead, it's with a dry joke and Barry is a little thankful for that because, yeah.

Still. This is awkward, isn't it? Just like him. Sometimes. Here and there.

Scratching at his cheek, he pauses on what to say before he awkwardly huffs a laugh and glances off around them. What a beautiful... cave... Alfred has. ]

Uh... yeah. You know how the saying goes. Don't mix business with pleasure and... all that. So, hence, bad idea... says Victor.

[ It was an out, of sorts. For the way Barry tried to save it with crushing admiration, and so, like, Vic objecting to that is—

Bruce isn't funny and should stick to his day job, is what it is. He stands there for a while, unsure what to make of it. That Barry is an awful lot younger than him is a factor, sure, but he's an adult, and mostly Bruce is just surprised when anyone finds him even a little appealing once they get past one or the other mask. Funny, how people can fall for a demonic, violent vigilante, or for a ditzy, sarcastic socialite, but once anyone sees the person sitting in between, they're out. ]

Victor's had a rough time, [ is what he says, after that silence has stretched on to almost painful lengths. ] Attraction and dating are understandably the farthest from his mind. Any kind of intimacy is a long road out from what he's been through.

[ His whole family brutally wiped out, his body hijacked, managing to find purpose again only with a band of completely crazy gods and monsters. Of course it would all look foolish to Vic, who will have to relearn even how to tolerate someone's honest friendship.

These two, meanwhile. Have broken in their trauma like old shoes.

Quieter: ] I'm not used to being surprised. You manage it more than most.

[ Weren't they having Moments Of Being Honest with each other here throughout this... very weird and random night? So, might as well just... continue that. Awkwardly. Story of Barry's life right here.

When Bruce offers a so-called explanation for Victor's "concerns" over what he and Barry very very thinly discussed with each other, Barry just runs his tongue over his bottom lip before he begins to suck on it, processing everything being said and not being said as quickly as he always does. Victor's... had it rough, he knows and he tries to be there for his friend when he can or lets him. He doesn't need Bruce to confirm that. But it's a nice little ice breaker of sorts after that silence to fall between them. Which... he probably shouldn't let happen again.

The comment of how he's surprised him, however, has Barry look up a little sheepishly and he huffs a half laugh before he scratches at his cheek again. ]

Yeah, uh... we don't... have to say this happened and can just pretend it never did.

[ That's what Bruce wants, right? It's "the right thing to do" or something since, yeah. Teammates. Bossman of sorts. Age... difference. Even if they're both adults. However, ]

I mean... if you think that's... best.

[ The wheels in his head turn, weighing the options. A year ago it'd have been one extreme or the other - an immediate You should go, and a persistent cold front, only performatively forgetting it ever happened, but strangling the life out of their association in punishment for daring Bruce to have an emotion. Or, stretching to the other side of the spectrum, an overture of sexuality and nothing more. An exorcism, which would end with unavoidable severing, the other person growing sick of him, scared of him, or both.

Bruce isn't that person anymore. At least, he'd like to not be.

What now? ]

I don't know what's best.

[ He gets enough of the maybe-future from his dreams, and enough statistics from tactics. He can't predict what might come of this. ]

You could stay, if you wanted. And we could talk about it.

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